"""I don't know, I don't know where it came from, from winter...or a river. I don't know how, or where, there were no voices, no words, nor silence but something from a street called me..."

mas or menos.

Poet I am not, but Neruda puts most yankee scribblers and greeting card wannabes to shame. Check out his writings on Latin American politics and history as well. I don't always agree with his politics (he was a Red, bay-be), but quite interesting---

I ran the whole poem through google translate. Even the machine generated English version is quite powerful.

That, and other events of the day, inspired me to write a new poem, (nothing in common with Neruda's) which will show up on my blog tomorrow. Probably between midnight and 1 a.m. EST, if you're a night owl. I'll be up late for another reason.

Yes pretty cool. Sort of like Soundgarden reunion!! Well, maybe not dat cool (scuzi non-jazz for a few nano-seconds...)

Even in translation powerful, Neruda, that is.

Check out his material on indigenous peoples of SA---Machu Picchu one fave. Like describing the deaths of the conquistadores and so forth. Balboa's head sliding off a sword, etc., jackal-like priests, etc .